By god they knew what they were doing when they named you a sonuvabitch...
I hope that when they discover my corpse they say, "that he had such a pretty face." My what a sentiment to hold about a man. Pretty face. Now a days they might call that man vain, but not I. I was a carved greco-roman god in the middle of a Rivera mural with all of the working men busy at work. My face stayed time at its wicked bay. Its knife sheathed. Its tongue tied resolutely. I found a certain solace whenever I heard the words of others as beautiful as me talking about how they wish they could know what creams or lotions I used in the morning. What was my diet? I told them it's all in the daily routine. Walking. A cigarette there. A mile run there. Do some lifting. Regular trips to the beaches. A positive attitude always helps.
I stayed positive all the time. I filled the ditches of solitude in my mind with time spent fucking the other beautiful faces. I spent time filling those ditches building my daily routine. Reading my favourite blogs. Watching my favourite shows I have saved throughout the weeks spent working. I filled these ditches fixing my life to pitch and bow with my own attitude. I built a pretty face worthy to die for or to sleep with, who could disagree? I am Steve Rogers, Clark Kent, and Allan Scott. Power, sex, and a future. I captured this and fixed it upon all the world so that they might reflect this back at me. I built this face for the rest of humanity to know me for who I really am.
A corpse was found off the highway. Burnt past recognition. The steel frame was charred. His grin lasted to the end (until it boiled). They said he was the next Ronald Reagan, Charlton Heston, or Paul Newman. They cried for all three. This man was a pretty face in the wrong time with the best of intentions. Nobody knew how to cry for this man.
I stayed positive all the time. I filled the ditches of solitude in my mind with time spent fucking the other beautiful faces. I spent time filling those ditches building my daily routine. Reading my favourite blogs. Watching my favourite shows I have saved throughout the weeks spent working. I filled these ditches fixing my life to pitch and bow with my own attitude. I built a pretty face worthy to die for or to sleep with, who could disagree? I am Steve Rogers, Clark Kent, and Allan Scott. Power, sex, and a future. I captured this and fixed it upon all the world so that they might reflect this back at me. I built this face for the rest of humanity to know me for who I really am.
A corpse was found off the highway. Burnt past recognition. The steel frame was charred. His grin lasted to the end (until it boiled). They said he was the next Ronald Reagan, Charlton Heston, or Paul Newman. They cried for all three. This man was a pretty face in the wrong time with the best of intentions. Nobody knew how to cry for this man.